


Welcome To The Family

by dametokillfor



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Concerts, Cross country rock and roll roadtrips, M/M, Metalhead Len, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, rock band fanboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: “Why are you here alone, Raymond?” The kid asks, turning to look at him. His nose ring is blue today.“I...”Ray doesn’t really want to tell the truth.I haven’t got many friends and none of them really like these guys. None of my friends have been there like they have. Because I need to see them as much as I can so I feel real.---xIn which Len and Ray are fans of the same rock band, keep bumping into each other as they follow the boys around, and somehow end up in something almost like love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I spent three weeks in January, when I wasn't working, travelling across England and Ireland following my favourite band. Unlike these lads, I only got to four shows, but that did take my total up to 14 in eleven years. This entire thing was basically inspired by my own insanity and written as a way to combat the inevitable gig blues when my adventure was over. 
> 
> The band aren't named in this, and I've tried to keep them mostly generic enough that you can insert your own favourite rockers. However there are links throughout the fic to the songs which I was thinking about while writing, if you'd like to hear it as I was imagining it. 
> 
> Title from Avenged Sevenfold, who were the idiots I was stalking for three weeks. Try and guess which parts of this are inspired by my own experiences over the years!

It’s show two when Ray sees him for the first time. The surly looking boy, with the grey eyes and the close-cropped hair. He’s stood right in front of the barrier, avoiding conversation with the excited fans around him, who are squealing about the cute guitarists and what the opening song will be.

(Even if he hadn’t got a show behind him, Ray would think the answer was pretty obvious. Since album three, the opening track has obviously been written as the opening song for the shows. It socks you in the jaw, reminds you just how goddamn perfectly the members work together, and reels in the poor other halves, parents, friends and others who have been dragged to the shows. _Everyone_ knows that).

The boy doesn’t appear to be with anybody, is stood by himself, looking frustrated by the fact he’s surrounded by people. Ray wonders why he’s here if he’s so put out by being in the same place as other humans.

He opens his mouth to ask him before the lights fall, and the screams of thousands of fans fill the arena. Ray watches the boy for a moment longer, and as the [o](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBYVlFXsEME)pening organ note pierces the velvet blackness, he thinks he sees a real smile.

\---x

At show three, Ray thinks he catches sight of the boy again, but finds himself too caught up chatting to a pair of women in their late 20’s to be sure. The pair have only met for the first time that night, and are both excited about having people their own age around. The women are apologising for their excitement, and Ray is insisting he’s going to be just as bad when they music kicks in. They announce they’re adopting Ray, and running away together when he tells them he thought they were about 21, like him.

They’re all talking like old friends by the time the lights go down, and as Sara slings her arm around Ray’s shoulder for a dance, and a mouth-guitar session during one of the [h](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imwmmv9r1oE)eavy ballads, Ray’s sure nothing could beat this.

\---x

Ray finally gets to talk to the boy at show four.

While sneaking to the barrier after the second support act, he spots him. He’s stood alone again, hand gripping the barrier and looking utterly done with the chatter going on around him. He looks like he wants to be left alone, and somehow that just winds Ray up. Who wants to be left alone at a concert like this? Doesn’t he want to talk about the songs, and the members? Doesn’t he want to share his excitement with someone? How is he not going crazy with anticipation right now?

Ray slides into the open spot just behind him, and sighs heavily.

“This venue, right?”

He has no idea what he’s saying. The venue is one of the smaller ones on his list, but really there’s nothing special about it.

The boy doesn’t bite. Ray doesn’t blame him, even Ray would have ignored himself.

“I’m Ray.” He tries, “Um, didn’t I see you a few nights back? At the second date? You look familiar.”

“I don’t think so.” The boy turns to look at him, scans him and shakes his head, “Isn’t the boyband playing tomorrow night?”

And _oh_ , that’s a nice voice.

Ray is quietly, slowly coming to terms with his sexuality, and how he’s not quite as straight as he’s always thought. This boy, now Ray gets a proper look at him, hits all the buttons he’s discovering.

His eyes aren’t grey, even in this dim light Ray can see the icy blue. There’s a spark of mischief in them that Ray wants to get caught up in. His full lips are curved in a wicked smirk, a ring piercing the bottom on the left. There’s also a ring in his nose.

His shirt is an 80’s Metallica design, with the sleeves roughly torn off. It doesn’t look like a brand new, distressed item, it looks like an old hand me down. It suits him, looks soft and loved. His arms are covered in colourful tattoos of varying quality, and Ray wonders if the colours would taste different under his tongue.

It’s a stark contrast to Ray’s own plain red tee and perfectly intact jeans.

“Actually,” Ray starts, suddenly aware of how long he’s been quiet, “they’re next week.”

Ray doesn’t blame the boy for turning away.

\---x

“You’re always off to the right.”

It’s show five, and Ray has found himself behind the boy again. His face is buried in his cracked phone screen, looking at a Twitter feed. Even then he doesn’t smile.

“You a fan of the solos?”

“No Raymond, I’m blind in one eye and this is the only way I can see the whole stage.”

He doesn’t even turn around, simply continues to swipe through his phone. Ray’s secretly a little impressed that he remembers his name.

“I’m just trying to make conversation. I’m alone, you’re alone, it can be kind of boring before the band come out.”

“And you thought you’d save me from my isolation? I’m flattered.”

He’s an asshole. Ray should just give up, but Ray doesn’t know the meaning of the words. He wasn’t named most likely to succeed in his graduating class for no reason.

“So – “

“Why are you here alone, Raymond?” The kid asks, turning to look at him. His nose ring is blue today.

“I...”

Ray doesn’t really want to tell the truth. _I haven’t got many friends and none of them really like these guys._ _None of my friends have been there like they have. Because I need to see them as much as I can so I feel real._

“Tickets were pretty expensive.” He shrugs. He leaves out the part where he’s spent most of his savings on them.

There’s a flash of something across the kid’s eyes, just for a moment. Understanding, Ray thinks. A brief twitch of the lips in what could pass for a smile.

“I’m Len.” He says.

Ray fixes Len with a beatific smile as the lights go down. Len just rolls his eyes and turns back to the stage.

\---x

For show six, Ray has paid out for a motel. It’s been all well and good taking greyhounds through the night to reach the next venue, and sleeping when he can, showering in bus stations, but it’s not ideal. With a two day break between arriving for show six, and the show itself, a motel was the most logical choice.

(When he was 18, he’d spent the night in a 24 hour McDonald’s, and the day wandering the streets, sleeping during a matinee showing of a Hobbit movie. 21 year old Ray is too old for that shit, he wants a bed.)

He’s just got out of probably the longest shower he’s ever had, what feels like a lifetime of ick washed off in a luke warm blast, when he hears the voice. The very familiar voice.

 _Len_.

His voice sounds softer somehow, but it’s unmistakeably his. Ray can’t quite hear what he’s saying, and he knows he shouldn’t really eavesdrop, but he’s also been awake too long enough to have any boundaries. He drapes the towel across his shoulders, and creeps to his door, pressing his ear against it.

“Don’t be like that, Lisa. You can survive a few weeks longer without me.”

Ray tries not to feel giddy at the time frame. They have more shows together. They’re going to be BFF’s by the time he’s finished. (Ray needs to go to bed. He’s 21. BFF’s is not something he should be thinking unironically.)

“No, Mick won’t burn down the house. He didn’t. Mick is not trying to seduce you. Because Mick is asexual, already barked up that tree, sis.” Len continues, “No, I don’t think he’s going to change his mind for a 14 year old. Mick’s a lot of things, but he’s not a pervert.”

And now Ray has too much information to process. Len has a teenage sister. Len barks up men’s trees. Len has a Mick. (Ray isn’t sure why this information seems important, but it probably is.)

Len’s voice is getting quieter, as if he’s walking away. Ray can’t have that, he was getting somewhere. Sort of. He presses himself closer to the door, as if it’ll make it easier to hear, and in the process, manages to push the handle down. It’s only as he’s falling out of his room, to the floor in front of Len’s feet that he thinks he should really have wrapped a towel around his hips, and not his shoulders.

“Raymond.”

Somehow this results in Len and Ray laid out across Ray’s bed, drinking cheap whiskey, passing a joint and listening to their band on Ray’s tablet. Ray has thrown on sweatpants and a hoodie, despite Len’s insistence he’d happily drink naked with him.

“Aw man, [t](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwNy4OYiKfw)his solo, Len. This fucking solo. He’s a _fucking_ _genius_.”

Ray has been making similar comments about every solo, Ray really loves guitar solos. Unfortunately, as a bassist, Len seems to think this makes him a boring bastard.

“Mm. You’re listening to it wrong, Raymond.” Len’s words are slower than usual, “He’s there to entice, he’s the showman, listen past the solo, what’s underneath.”

“I do listen, just the fuckin’ _solos_.”

“You don’t, you... shhh.” Len reaches across and puts a hand over his mouth “Close your, your eyes and just listen.”

Ray wants to protest, but Len would move his hand and it feels nice. Warm, and soft, calloused fingertips. He huffs a little through his nose, and closes his eyes, tries to focus on _listening past the solo_.

And it’s no good, all he can hear is the solo, the gorgeous guitar singing its own love song, overshadowing the admittedly corny romantic lyrics the vocalist had belted out.

He opens his eyes, shakes his head, behind Len’s hand.

Len rolls his eyes and pulls his hand away, “Plan B.”

“Plan – “

Before Ray can even get his words out, Len is kissing him. It’s a light press of lips, but it’s enough to short circuit Ray’s brain, and there’s nothing else in his head but the feel of Len’s lips against his own.

And there are the strings he’s never heard before, making the ballad feel bigger, grander. He’s heard them through the rest of the song, but had never noticed them under the solo. ( _This is the first man he’s ever kissed_ ) The drum beat is simple, but it always was on this album.  ( _His chapped lips taste of Jack Daniels_ ) The rhythm guitar is light, holding the tune going as the wailing guitar plays over it, it falls away as the two guitarists sync up for a harmonic duet towards the end, and it’s beautiful. ( _He wants this to go further_ ) The bass is there, just on the fringes, steady and dependable, like a heartbeat. ( _Yep. He’s bi._ )

Just as soon as the vocalist kicks in, his gravelly tones building to another crescendo, Len pulls back.

“You hear it now?” He asks.

Ray answers him with another kiss.

\---x

The two days before the show pass in a haze of Jack, weed, music and fooling around. They never pass making out, Ray still getting accustomed to a very male body beneath him. He hasn’t told Len that he’s the first man he’s ever been with, but he’s sure he knows. He’s perceptive. He must be able to sense the trembling fingers, the nervous way he touches him. It’s not hard to see he’s a beginner.

Len is a good teacher, guiding Ray every step of the way, not pushing for more, being conscious of Ray’s boundaries. He lets Ray know what he likes, and what he doesn’t. Ray thinks he wants to go further with Len, when the time comes.

He hasn’t yet found out what other dates they’re attending together, Len seems to be keeping his cards close to his chest on that one. Ray is pretty certain their paths will cross again though, there’s still a month left on the tour and Ray has several dates ahead of him.

(Show six itself passes with the pair of them side by side all night, Len’s arm thrown about Ray’s shoulder as they drunkenly scream every word and get pointed out by the singer for their incredible camaraderie.)

\---x

The hangover is trying to kill him.

His _eyes_ hurt, his mouth and throat are so dry they hurt, and every inch of his body aches from being thrown around in a pit. He regrets everything, and is ready to start praying for death. There’s also a sore, burning sensation in his left nipple and he’s pretty sure the bed has given him some kind of horrible disease.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, but he also needs to check he’s not missed his coach. Ray throws an arm out in the general direction of his phone and after a few near misses, manages to grab the pesky thing.

He pulls it towards him, and opens his eye the tiniest amount. It’s still fairly early, he has another three hours til he should head for the station. He’s about to throw the phone and go back to sleep when he notices the memo that’s been pinned to his screen.

_Salt water._

_Len x_

Confused, he drops the phone by his head, and closes his eyes again. He lets his hand fall heavily across his chest, and shrieks in pain as he smacks his nipple. He jolts up in bed, ignoring the swimming in his head, and pulls his shirt up.

Right there, through his left nipple, is a ring that he definitely didn’t have the night before.

Well _shit_.

\---x

“Why do I have a nipple ring?” Ray yells over the top of the support act during show seven.

“Be thankful I talked you out of the tattoo!” Len yells back.

\---x

They’re in a booth in a small rock bar after show eight. Ray is pinned under Len, being kissed to within an inch of his life. Len’s hands are under his shirt, rough fingertips tracing his ribs as he rocks forward on Ray’s lap.

“I want to show you something.” Len tells him, biting at his lip, “Tomorrow.”

“Len, I’m not…” Ray stumbles over his words. He doesn’t know how to turn down the man on his lap, without completely ruining this insane _chemistry_ they have, “Not yet. I want to but I’m not…”

“What? No. No, something else. Meet me?”

“Okay.” Ray agrees, “But w – “

He’s cut off by Len kissing him again.

It’s only as they’re breaking apart for the night, 2AM and the bar is throwing everyone out, that Len tells Ray where to meet him. He presses a scrap of paper into Ray’s hand and leaves him with a kiss.

\---x

Ray is surprised to discover Len has sent him to a small music shop. It’s a mom and pop operation, proudly displaying its family heritage on the sign above the door. Ray can see Len through the window, a red five stringed bass slung over his shoulder as he effortlessly plays a complex looking bassline. There’s an older man stood by him, long dark curly hair, and a blue goatee, bobbing his head along to the tune Len is playing.

Ray watches for another moment, a warmth blooming in his chest over this stupid boy he’s completely gone for, before he finally enters the store.

Len doesn’t spot him straight away, something Ray is happy for as it means he gets to listen to him playing. He’s talented, throwing out an [i](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hDs6mCVAKs)ntricate bassline as if it’s Twinkle Twinkle. Ray can play, but Len is better than him without question.

As Len finishes with a flourish, Ray makes himself known by applauding, “Encore!”

There’s a shy smile on Len’s face, and Ray didn’t even know he could look anything other than cocky, or irritated. Ray’s a little head over heels.

“This the kid?” The older man asks.

“Yeah, this is him, Mike.”

Mike smiles, “Len found somethin’ very special for you to play.”

He gestures for Ray to follow him. For a split-second Ray is concerned that he’s going to be murdered horribly, and Len is going to help Mike hide the body. As Mike opens a small practice room door, Ray sees it.

“Holy shit. That’s the… that’s… the… that’s the [g](http://i.imgur.com/QYRN6RI.jpg)uitar!” Ray turns to look at Len, “THAT’S HIS GUITAR!”

Ray runs across the room, stops in front of the axe and can’t help the squeal that comes from his mouth. The guitar is gorgeous, elegant lines, pearl band logo in the dark wood fretboard, stage name in place of the dot inlays. The body is black with different width silver stripes covering it, and across the body, a spidery scrawl in silver pen thanking Mike, the dollar sign signature that Ray would know anywhere.

“Oh God, he’s touched it. He’s signed it.”

“He’s played it.” Mike explains, “We sponsored their first show here, back in 2000, so when they came back a few years back, selling bigger places out, he came and donated it to us. Great guy.”

“I’m going to piss myself.” Ray whimpers.

He can hear the words coming out of his mouth, but he’s not doing great at stopping them.  He wants to shriek, and bounce up and down. He’s touched this guitar, he’s played this guitar.

“She’s tuned up if you want to play her.” Mike says.

Ray looks back to him, “What?”

“She’s a guitar, son. She was made to be played.”

Ray looks to Len, who nods to the gorgeous guitar, “I showed you mine.”

Ray approaches the guitar as if it’s a wild animal, one that would rip his arm off if he petted it wrong and reaches out to pick it up. He doesn’t think he’s ever shook so much, not even when Maisy Greene told him he could touch her boob in 8th grade.

He carefully picks the guitar up, and hooks the strap across him. The strap is one of his heroes as well, he recognises it from the older videos. He gently caresses the strap, before adjusting the guitar on his shoulder. It’s heavy, it’s bigger than his own, but it feels right. He runs his hands reverently along the neck and the body.

“Do you two need a moment, or…?” Len asks.

Ray flips him off. He rests his hands on the guitar, taking a long moment. He can’t believe he’s wearing one of the actual guitars that’s been used on stage, that’s been used in the recordings of his favourite songs.

Like Mike said, she’s a guitar, she’s made to be played. He starts simply, a few chords, the rhythm part of the [s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAJNbMKGzGw)ong that’s been floating around his head for the past few days. It’s one of the new ones, he’s not certain it’s perfect, but it’s close enough. She plays like a dream, clear and bright. The size is an asset, makes her more comfortable to play. He’s tall, and his own Ibanez can be a challenge at times.

He starts fooling around with [R](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFFkApOqidY)omance, the first song he ever learned to pick properly. It’s an easy melody, recognisable, a perfect warm up. It’s not intricate enough, she deserves better, she deserves more. She deserves something special.

Ray cracks his knuckles, shakes his legs out and jumps up and down a little. Mike and Len are watching him intently, and Ray can’t disappoint them. It’s album four, it’s a single, it’s not the best solo but it’s one Ray is most confident busting out in front of a watching crowd. He knows it backwards – he really does, one time he tried – and he’s managed it very drunk before. This is something he can do.

His fingers settle at the fifth fret, and he takes a deep breath as he [s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zCwYqwTm2M)tarts. He can see recognition on Len’s face straight away, eyes lighting up as he knows what Ray’s attempting. The solo is fast, technical but easy enough for someone who’s spent as many hours listening to it, and playing it as Ray has.

It comes out effortless, smooth and practiced, even Mike has a smile on his face as Ray finishes. Ray’s proud of that, this guy has heard this played properly, on this guitar, by the man himself and he’s still smiling at Ray.

Len’s applauding as Ray finishes, and Ray takes a bow. Mike joins in with the applause.

“He’d be impressed, kid.”

They spend a few hours in the music shop, Len and Ray jamming together, Mike joining in with a second guitar when he’s not serving customers. Ray tries to pay him for the chance to play the guitar, but Mike is having none of it. He’s just happy to see someone with such passion for the band enjoying the gift he’s been given. Len takes a few photos of Ray playing the instrument that are going to be his Facebook profile for the rest of his life, and Mike gets a few shots of them together which Ray may use as his phone wallpaper for the same length of time.

Outside the shop, Ray pulls Len into a massive hug, “Thank you.”

Len awkwardly slaps his back, “Didn’t seem right keeping it to myself.”

Ray hazards a look at his phone, “We’ve got a while til my bus, you wanna go back to the motel? I’ve got half a bottle of Jack with our names on it.”

After a swig each, the Jack is soon forgotten in favour of fooling around. Len’s shirt is on the floor, Ray’s lips and tongue are tracing along Len’s chest and stomach, his fingers following the hard lines of his body.

“If I’d known all it took to get you this riled up was a guitar, I’d have tried it weeks ago.” Len laughs, as Ray dips his tongue into his belly button. Ray nips at his soft stomach and tries to fix him with his best glare.

(He’s not going to lie; the guitar may have contributed to this sudden bout of sexual forwardness.)

He wants to go further. Len has done something amazing for him, Ray thinks he wants to do something for Len. His hands are at Len’s hips and he wants to pull the jeans off him and see all of him. He wants so much, but he’s so scared. He does this and there’s no going back. He’s here, he’s queer, and he’s not sure how prepared he is for that.

Len seems to sense his hesitation. He reaches out, and runs a hand through Ray’s thick hair. He doesn’t say anything, but Ray can hear _this is enough_ in his head.

He’s so annoyed. It’s not enough. He wants more. He _wants_ this.

“Come here.” Len tells him, tugging his hair. (And oh, he _likes_ that).

“You’re not ready.” Len whispers against his lips, “And I’m not going to send you screaming back to the closet after the best blowjob of your life.”

Ray groans and rolls off him, laying back heavily on the bed, “I’m such a loser.”

“Well, yeah.” Len agrees, rolling onto his side, “But not for this. You’re just a massive nerd.”

Ray’s chuckling, and Len throws an arm across his chest, nuzzling closer.

“Besides more I think about it, when I finally fuck you, I don’t want it to be quick and rushed.” Len yells him, slipping his hand lightly under the waistband of Ray’s jeans, “I want to take my time with you, make you beg me for it, make it last all night.”

Ray finds he’s really looking forward to it.

\---x

Show nine is a big show for the band, and a bigger show for Ray and Len. It’s in the bands home state, in the venue where they saw their heroes play growing up. They’ve both seen the DVD’s, and the music videos, and the home shows are always very special. There’s alternate set lists, there’s usually a cover of one of their favourite bands, and tonight there’s a DVD recording. They’ll get to relive this show again and again, they might be recorded in the audience.

Len has done this before, at a festival overseas, and he wasn’t able to see himself in the audience. He’s trying to be realistic, keep Ray’s expectations low but Ray’s still excited.

They’ve arrived earlier than usual, spent most of the day queued up at the entrance of the venue, chatting with other fans. Facebooks and Twitters have been swapped, with idle promises of staying in contact. Ray likes to think he’ll at least stay in contact with Nate, who’s as big of a nerd as he is, even if he’s wrong about Batman kicking Superman’s ass. (Len had cut in with Wonder Woman being able to destroy the pair of them, with heels on).

Halfway through the day, one of the roadies comes out to chat with them. He takes a few photos for Snapchat stories, and Instagram posts to show the level of dedication the band inspires. He goes back inside, and returns about half an hour later with snacks and water for them all.

They’re all in good moods as the doors open, fed and watered, ready to give it their all. They take their usual spot, across to the left. Len is pressed against the barrier, Ray has given his own barrier spot up to one of his new friends, Amaya, who couldn’t see past him. He’s stood behind her, ready to take the knocks for her, so that she’s not crushed or hurt.

“You’re a regular white knight, Raymond.” Len teases.

“Forgive me for being a gentleman.” Ray preens.

(True to his word, Ray stays behind her all night. He takes many knocks, a punch to the head and a boot to the knee, but she’s unharmed.)

The band are on top form. They’re playing their hearts out for their home crowd, and probably having more fun than those of them in the audience. They’ve replaced their waters with beers and as they get looser through the night, the show feels more like a group of friends at a party than a band and fans. The stage is a formality, they’re all on the same level.

Ray and Len are singing every word, as are their friends from the queue. They’re throwing arms around each other, dancing, singing to each other.

When one of Ray’s absolute [f](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bDg7n-chhU)avourite songs starts, one he’s not heard live since the first tour he went to, they’re all cheering with him as he screams every word so loud he’s nearly throwing up with the exertion.

The singer sees him, and gives him a thumbs up and a wink. It’s not the first time he’s been noticed on the tour, but damn it feels good, especially with all the cameras around.

As the song ends, the singer jokes that they should just sing that a few times to finish their set as it went down so well and points out that the “guy over there could do it for me”

Ray’s on cloud _fucking_ nine.

There’s drinks with Nate, Amaya, Jax and Kendra after the show, all of them squeezed into a bar and toasting to their newfound friendship and Ray’s new status as a rock star hero. Len’s laughing into his neck, and is unashamed of what’s between them. He’s drunk and he’s happy, and Ray doesn’t think anything could be better.

(However when he wakes up the next morning, with Len dozing on his shoulder, looking soft and comfortable, he thinks maybe this could).

\---x

The tenth show is strange for Ray. It’s the first one Len hasn’t been at since they started this thing, and Ray’s a bit at a loss. He’s been to shows without him before, even on this tour they’ve been separated before, but somehow the space where he should be is even stranger now.

The band perform as proficiently as ever, Ray sings every word and still feels that same rush he always does, but when he looks to his side and he doesn’t see Len there screaming along with him, it feels wrong.

\---x

Show eleven, and Ray’s epic journey is at an end.

Eleven shows, ten cities, too many bus station showers, gross motels, several bottles of JD, one nipple piercing, and literally no food with any nutritional value for the past month and a half. Every inch of his body hurts, and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to leave the comfort of his bed for at least a week when he finally gets back to it.

His final show is in Central City, Len’s home base. He’ll be attending the show with his teenage sister, and best friend tonight, so Ray needs to not suck.

He finds Len at their spot after the second support act, along with a slight teenage girl, with big blonde curls and bigger boots, and an older guy with a shaven head and a sour look. Ray figures these are Lisa and Mick. He’s already completely terrified of them.

He takes a deep breath, heads into the fray. He rests a hand on Len’s shoulder, and gives him a grin as he turns around.

“Hey.”

“Raymond.” He’s trying to be cool, but Ray can see the cute smile threatening to appear on his face.

“So, this is the cute boy that’s kept Lenny on the road.” Lisa says, a smile that’s definitely going to get her into trouble in years to come, “Lisa Snart.”

She extends a hand, and Ray hopes she can’t feel the sweat on his, “Ray Palmer.”

With his newfound confidence, Ray turns to Mick, “And you must be Mick.”

Mick grunts in acknowledgement, and ignores Ray’s hand.

“I need a beer.” He announces. His voice is like gravel, and he sounds older than the 25/26 Ray that would put him at.  

Ray digs in his pocket, “Um, can you get me one as well? I mean, if you’re going that way anyway, may as well, right?”

He passes a crumpled $20 to Mick, and grins at him. Mick takes it and heads out of the crowd. Ray turns to Len, “He’s going to spit in it, isn’t he?”

“Only if he can’t find somewhere to piss in it.” Lisa confirms.

Mick returns as the lights go down, hands Ray a plastic glass with a wicked grin on his face and returns his $20.

“Oh, no, you keep it. For the beer.” Ray tries to pass the bill back to him, but Mick pushes it back against his chest.

“No, I insist.”

\---x

As the band leave the stage before their encore, Ray can almost feel his heart breaking. The ride has been so good, even with the travel sickness, the sore neck from sleeping sat up, the two showers a week, and the constant sore throat from the screaming. He’s not ready for it to be over yet, he’s not ready to say goodbye to these men and how much better he feels seeing them every few days.

He doesn’t want to go back to reality, to a disappointed family, to a twin brother who sees him as less than, to wasting his genius level intelligence behind the counter of a bookstore as he’s slowly beaten down to nothing.

He wants the final three songs to last forever. He wants to stay in this bubble for the rest of his life where he’s happy, and he’s accepted, and there’s this amazing guy who looks at him like he matters, and five men who can fix everything just by _being there_.

Ray can feel the tears forming in his eyes, and he doesn’t want to cry. Len knows they matter to him, but he doesn’t know how much. He doesn’t think he’d be making a very good impression on Lisa and Mick if he burst into tears because he’s going to _miss a band_.

Len looks across to him, and Ray forces a smile, before joining in with the chant for the band to come back. Len turns back to the stage, but his hand slips subtly into Ray’s and he moves a step back to be stood by his side.

Len doesn’t let go of his hand throughout the encore.

\---x

After Mick and Lisa – mostly Lisa – have said their goodbyes to Ray outside the venue, they leave Len and Ray to say their own goodbyes. They’ve found a quiet spot by one of the emergency staircases, they’re basically invisible to anyone passing. Being a queer couple at a heavy rock gig still isn’t as safe as they’d like, so it’s best they’re not too noticeable.

Ray’s about to open his mouth, to tell him that he can borrow his brothers car and drive down every few weeks, that he’ll probably have to do some awful shit but it’d be worth it, because he’s got Len at the end of it. He’s just about formed the sentence when Len pipes up instead.

“It’s been good, Raymond.” His voice sounds colder, final, and Ray doesn’t like it.

“You mean, the tour?” Ray asks.

“The tour,” Len gestures between them, “This.”

“It could still be good though, right? I mean, just because the tour’s over, it doesn’t mean whatever this is has to be.” Ray can hear the panic in his voice. This isn’t the end, this can’t be the end.

“Doesn’t it?” Len asks, “You’re 600 miles away from me, with your own friends, your own family, your own life. You’re going to drive an 18 hour round trip just to fool around for a few hours, while we pretend there’s something to this other than one shared interest and adrenalin?”

“You don’t have to be cruel, Len.”

“I’m not being cruel, I’m being honest.” Len tells him, “We had fun, but that’s all it was.”

“It didn’t feel like it.”

“ _Raymond_.” He sounds long suffering, even after just over a month, “Don’t be in love with me.”

Ray wants to snap back, wants to insist he’s not but somehow the words aren’t coming, and oh God, _he is_.

Len leans in, and presses a final kiss to Ray’s temple, “It’s better like this.”

Before Ray can find the words to beg him not to go, Len has let go of him and is walking away, and out of his damn life.

\---x

** NINE MONTHS LATER **

Ray’s asleep at the reception desk again. There’s an untouched black coffee next to him, going cold and a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth. He’s leant against the wall, and is slowly sliding down it as he falls deeper into his powernap.

His phone is going crazy, buzzing in his pocket and the IM window he isn’t supposed to have open is also dinging constantly.

It’s only when the reception phone rings loudly that he’s jerked out of his sleep. He lifts his head too fast, which pushes him off the wall too fast and sends his wheeled chair sliding from underneath him. He lands on his ass with an entirely manly squeal.

He grabs the still ringing phone, and tries to keep his voice level as he answers, “Park Hotel, Central City, how may I help you?”

“Asleep again, Mr Palmer.” A crisp English voice answers.

“Sorry, Mr Hunter, won’t happen again. I just closed my eyes for a second and…”

There’s muffled laughter on the end of the phone, and as Ray gets to his feet he’s realises he’s been played again.

“I regret giving you this number, Nate.”

“You weren’t answering your cell, or Skype. I needed to take drastic action. They’ve released the first live video, and you need to see it.” Nate tells him. Ray can imagine his overexcited friend almost vibrating in his seat.

“I finish in three hours.” Ray says, already opening YouTube and moving into the security camera blind spot.

“You’re watching it right now, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Message me when you’re done.”

It’s the song that Ray was spotted during, and it’s not what Ray would have expected they’d release as a first look at the live DVD. As he watches, Ray’s transported back to that night, to his new friends cheering him on, to the sweaty bodies around him, to the thrill of the music, to _Len_.

He’s not thought about Len in a good few months. He moved out to Central City a few months after he got home, to get away from his family, to start over. There was maybe a tiny part of him hoping to see Len, but he got over that quickly. Now he’s settled, with a new job, a roommate who doesn’t totally hate him and while things aren’t perfect, he’s feeling better. Things are better for him.

Still as he watches the video, remembers the slightly drunk lead guitarist stalking the bassist across the stage, the other guitarist joining in as the song went on, he smiles. He’d give it all up to be back on the tour again.

As it comes up to the moment where he was spotted singing, the camera cuts to the crowd and there he is, hair flopping over his face, sweat pouring down him, screaming at the top of his lungs. He looks happy, and he can’t help but break into a grin watching himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he can just see his friends around him, there’s Nate’s arm, Amaya’s hair. There’s Len.

There’s a ding at the reception desk and Ray quickly pauses the video, before rushing back to the counter and apologising to the guest he’s kept waiting.

A few moments later, after comping breakfast – he’ll claim he needed a bathroom break and hope Hunter’s feeling generous – he returns to his phone, and unlocks it. The video is paused on him singing, and Len who is watching him. Unlike his other friends, Len isn’t cheering or screaming next to him, he’s just gazing with a spacey smile on his face. He doesn’t look like someone who just hooked up with the most convenient cute guy on tour. He looks as gone as Ray was in the end.

Ray hits play, he can’t look at Len’s face anymore. He made his choice, he didn’t want to try and turn what they had into something, Ray’s over it.

\---x

Ray’s not over it.

He’s finally landed in his bed at 9.30AM, after passing over to the day receptionist, and no matter how tired he is, he’s not sleeping. His eyes won’t stay closed, and his roof is the most interesting part of his room.

If Len felt the same as Ray, then why didn’t he want to try and make it work? Ray had thought it was his fault, that he’d got in too deep and it wasn’t mutual, but damnit the look on Len’s face. Ray knows that look. Ray _had_ that look. What happened between the DVD show and their last show?

In the first month after he and Len had gone their separate ways, Ray did everything he could to try and track him down. His Twitter account had been deleted, and his Facebook was locked down. He’d had no Tumblr, no other accounts that Ray could find him on. He couldn’t get to Len through Mick or Lisa, he didn’t know Mick’s last name and he didn’t feel like a 21 year old contacting a 14 year old girl would really be appropriate.

He’d resigned himself to never knowing what they could be, and he’d slowly got on with his life. But now, now he needs to know, and he has no idea how he’s going to find out.

Around 11AM, he accepts that he’s not about to sleep anytime soon and drags himself out of bed. He stumbles like a zombie to the refrigerator and pulls it open to see if there’s anything remotely edible in there.

An empty egg carton, one sausage and Chinese that he’s pretty certain has been there for the past week. He rests his head against the top of the fridge and groans. Looks like it’s his turn to do the groceries.

\---x

Hoodie up, glasses on, dirty sweatpants and flip flops, Ray is almost half asleep as he staggers to the register with his full cart. He’s pretty certain that his cart is full of stuff that he doesn’t need, including cat food for the cat they don’t have, and tampons for him and his male housemate. He’s too tired to make a list, and there are women at the hotel who can take advantage of his sleepy stumbling.

He unpacks the cart on autopilot, noticing even more bizarre items ending up on the belt. (Why does he need a teething ring?)

“I thought you were allergic to cats, Raymond.”

Great. Now Ray’s aurally hallucinating. That is definitely Len’s voice, and he wants to believe when he looks up he’ll see Len behind the register. He’s obviously exhausted, he’s going mad, these kinds of crazy, random happenstances only happen in the movies.

“And afraid of garden gnomes.”

“What?”

Ray looks up then and, oh God, it is Len, holding a sinister looking, blue hatted gnome with a fishing rod.

“I definitely don’t want that.”

Len smiles a little as he puts the gnome under his station, and turns to continue scanning Ray’s ridiculous groceries. His lip ring is gone, nose ring replaced by a small green stud, his tattoos are covered by an ugly green fleece jacket. He looks almost respectable. Ray’s still crazy about him.

“I’m not stalking you.”

Smooth Ray.

“I mean,” Ray starts, “I’m not in Central City for you. My friend, Barry, lives here and I needed to get out of Star City and this was as far away from my family as I could get without crossing state lines. So… this isn’t… I didn’t plan this. It’s just a really crazy coincidence.”

Len doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t look unsettled by it either.

“You seen the live video yet?” Ray asks, figuring it’s probably a safer question than the thousand going around his head begging Len to ditch his shift, run away with him and live in an igloo mansion with a penguin butler. God _damn_ he needs some sleep.

Len nods, “You looked good.”

“Looked like you noticed that at the time as well.” Ray says, before he can stop himself. It sounds petty coming out of his mouth, and he doesn’t mean it. (He totally means it.)

There’s a long moment where they just look at each other. Ray hopes he looks aloof and icy, like someone who has seen their ex, is doing way better and is way too good for him. He’s pretty certain he just looks sleepy, pathetic and probably has horns instead of hair.

Len sighs, sounding more tired than Ray thinks he looks.

“I did.” He admits, “Too good. Too good for me.”

“ _Len_.”

There’s a cough from behind them, an older woman with a grumpy child on her hip and a cart full of actual food looking at them like they’re personally offending her. Len and Ray both turn back to each other.

“Y’know, I’m not that good.” Ray digs into his wallet, so he can pretend he’s getting ready to leave, “I’m a college dropout. I ran to the other end of the state to get away from a family who hate me. I spent most of my damn savings following a band across the country because I feel closer to them than I do most actual people I meet. I’m pretty screwed up too Len, you weren’t protecting me by ending things.”

Len stares for a long moment, before there’s another cough from behind them.

“That’s $64.”

Ray tries not to let his heart break again as he’s rejected for a second time. He hands over the cash and grabs the bags that the scrawny teen at the end had been bagging. (Ray didn’t even see him, so caught up in Len as he was). He thanks the kid, and is ready to leave.

“Raymond, wait.”

And he wants to stay strong, to stay mad and not look back, but it’s been nine months and Len’s actually there. He looks back, and somehow Len looks even more gorgeous this time. Ray wonders if he just gets more perfect with every passing second.

“What?”

“You want to get a drink? Try this again?” Len asks.

He sounds so unlike the Len that Ray had got to know. He’s unsure, he’s nervous, he’s more like Ray than Len. He doesn’t look cocky anymore, he looks like a no will shatter him

And _shit_ , Ray really doesn’t want to say no.

So he doesn't.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mike's physical appearance is inspired by Mike Portnoy from Dream Theater, for no reason other than he's a cool dude and drummed with my boys on their Nightmare album.
> 
> This was also posted on what would have been The Rev's 36th birthday, which was complete coincidence, but feels fitting somehow. 
> 
> Come squee with me on [Tumblr](http://damnstevens.tumblr.com).


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